Addicted
by Made of Blue
Summary: Being near her was painful. Being away from her hurt even more.  She would be the death of his sanity, and he knew it. GrimmjowxOC.  Series of one shots and drabbles based on the song "Love the Way You Lie" by Eminem.
1. Watch me Burn

Grimmjow never fell asleep holding her, but somehow wound up doing so unconciously. Whenever he woke up, she would always be curled up in his arms, her soft skin teasingly brushing his stomach. His arm laid against hers, her soft hand within his. She seemed so small and innocent against his rugged form, but he knew she wasn't. She hadn't been since she met him.

He always awoke before her, too. Grimmjow hated feeling inferior, and having her awaken before him would make that sentiment arise. Without even knowing, Grimmjow had made her aware of this.

There was an extensive list of other things she could not do. She couldn't converse with anyone besides him, she couldn't leave his room without his permission, and she couldn't get dressed unless he told her so. But just because she couldn't do these things didn't mean she wouldn't.

Perhaps that was why Grimmjow was so enthralled with this woman, though he would never admit it. Without even the slightest warning, she would disobey him, and he would punish her. Harshly. Maybe she enjoyed his abuse, which would explain why her behavior always warranted it. Or maybe she just did it for the attention. But Grimmjow didn't really care why she did it. He would always find a reason to smack her around.

She actually didn't know why she always gave Grimmjow a reason to hurt her. She might have actually liked the way he would roughly smack her face, then grab it and kiss her senseless before hitting it again. But that probably wasn't why. She only knew that she liked to be dominated, and Grimmjow would certainly fulfill that desire.

She found it difficult to exist around him, and even more so when he wasn't there. For some reason, she had become addicted to his harsh words and treatment, and she knew she wouldn't grow out of it.


	2. I Like the Way it Hurts

Natsumi had no idea how she managed to awaken before Grimmjow, but she knew why. The man spooning her had "accidentally" kicked her knee in his slumber. Although it hurt slightly, she didn't move. She chose to lay there, relishing in the feel of his surprising gentility while unconscious. Natsumi loved the way his firm, calloused hands clasped her silky smooth ones. She moved her arm to place her hand on top of his, allowing Grimmjow to pull her even closer. She could distinctly feel his abdominal muscles pressing against her, and she felt a shiver run through her just thinking of the power they held.

Slowly and cautiously, so as not to wake him, Natsumi began stroking the back of Grimmjow's hand. It felt much softer than it looked, but wasn't incredibly so. If her skin was like cashmere, then his would be flannel. As she continued to caress his hand, the muscles in it clenched, causing her to gasp quietly and pull away from the appendage. She sighed when she heard him release a groan in his sleep and quietly slip back into it.

As she lay there, Natsumi couldn't help but recall the previous night's events, or rather, screaming matches. She constantly fought with Grimmjow for no reason. Perhaps it was due to the way that he always seemed to get under her skin. Or maybe it was the fact that after practically sucking the lips off of her face, he stormed out of the room, leaving Natsumi angry and unsatisfied.

Regardless of what caused her upset disposition, Natsumi always felt relieved when Grimmjow ended the fights, either by storming out of the room or by kissing her. Both ways left her feeling impassioned, but she would have felt even more so should the fight have continued.

But last night's argument was different. Grimmjow was apparently in a foul mood, and chose to take it out on Natsumi. He even brought up the fact that he could kill her whenever he tired of her presence, and she hated that. Feeling expendable was worse that feeling irate.

As her mind recalled the hate-filled words Grimmjow had screamed at her, Natsumi could feel her bitterness rising. She didn't want him anywhere near her, and she certainly didn't want him wrapped around her. So, she roughly grabbed the arm that he had draped around her torso and threw it off of her body and back towards his. She then stood up and walked away from the bed, certain that Grimmjow was now awake and very, very annoyed.

"What the fuck was that?" he screamed. She heard him getting off of the bed and following her into the bathroom.

Natsumi chose to ignore him and quickly ran into the bathroom, locking the door. She sighed and leaned her hands on the sink, looking into the mirror. Having just woken up, she thought that she would look much worse than she actually did, but her irritated expression was rather unflattering.

She gasped and backed away from the sink when she heard Grimmjow kick the door open, the side of it whacking her arm.

"I'm was talking to you!" Grimmjow yelled, pulling Natsumi out of the bathroom by her arm.

"No," she contested, her voice stronger that she thought it would be, "you were yelling at me."

Grimmjow threw her towards the bed, her head hitting the mattress.

"You didn't answer my question." Grimmjow's voice was now calmer, having regained control of the situation. "The fuck's the matter with you?"

Natsumi glared at Grimmjow, causing him to laugh. "That's one scary look you've got," he teased, walking towards her. "But, you know," he continued, grabbing her chin and forcing her to look at him, "you look ugly when you're mad."

Natsumi's anger boiled up inside of her, causing her to thrash about trying to free herself of Grimmjow's fierce grip. He continued to laugh.

"What the hell do you think that's gonna do?"

His cackles were incessant, and only fueled Natsumi's fire. Eventually, his grip slackened and she took the opportunity to stand up and bolt towards the other wall. She didn't get very far, however, as Grimmjow gripped her wrist and pulled her back against him, smirking. He was enjoying this, and that set her off.

Natsumi continued her futile attempts of getting away from Grimmjow, pounding her fists on his chest in some vain hope that they would have some effect.

Grimmjow laughed, and taunted, "You're pretty feisty at midnight."

Natsumi glared hard at Grimmjow, and he met her stare with his signature smug look. She hated it. She didn't even want to look at him anymore. So, taking her free hand, Natsumi slapped him across the cheek. She almost gasped when she saw it connect, as she was all but positive that he would stop her. It was apparent that he was capable of doing so.

Grimmjow let go of Natsumi's wrist to rub his cheek. It didn't even hurt, but it annoyed him that she thought highly enough of herself to think that she could slap him. This girl was a fun one.

He turned back towards her with another smirk. Her fearful expression only egged him on to teach her a lesson she wouldn't forget.

Natsumi recognized this look however, and quickly scampered onto the bed, trying to get as far away from Grimmjow as possible.

He was, obviously, quicker than her, and jumped on the bed, grabbing her waist to pull her back, then slamming her down, his hands trapping her wrists to prevent her escape. His legs were on either side of hers, letting him straddle her waist. Slowly, Grimmjow leaned down to whisper in her ear, "Don't scream."

As soon as the words left his mouth, Natsumi could only gasp as his lips encircled hers. His kisses were fierce and difficult to keep up with, but she had managed to somehow. She could feel his teeth hitting her own and biting on her tongue, drawing blood. The metallic taste rushed down her throat, and she hated to admit that she loved it.

She loved the way Grimmjow kissed her so intensely, like he never would be able to again. She loved the way he would throw her around, sporting that playful smirk that bared his canines. She loved the way that he would take her practically every night, so rough that she would scream for him until her throat was raw and do anything so the physical gratification would never end, and courtesy of Grimmjow's stamina, it seemed like it never did.

She would do anything for Grimmjow, anything to make him love her or show her affection or even just fuck her brains out. Luckily, she never had to do anything but savor the pain he caused.


	3. Hear Me Cry

Grimmjow was confused. There were several things that Natsumi did that would perturb him, but this truly topped the list. He stared at her, silent. He didn't even know if she was aware of his presence, and he was hoping that she wasn't. She was merely sitting in the corner of the room, her knees pulled in to her chest with her arms wrapped around them. Her head laid atop them, and he could notice her back tremble at random intervals. The dark spots on the floor around her person gave away the fact that she was crying.

But it wasn't her tears that perplexed Grimmjow-it was the cause of them. As far as he could remember, he had done nothing to cause such outlandish behavior, and he didn't appreciate witnessing it. He hated crying girls.

For whatever reason, however, Grimmjow couldn't leave Natsumi. He could feel his brows furrowing at the sight of her lithe form hunched over, and he could only imagine what a wreck her countenance would be, wet, red, and mopey.

She disgusted him.

Grimmjow crossed his arms and leaned onto his left leg, making enough noise to cause Natsumi to notice him.

She looked up at him. Her green eyes were dazzling, dripping with salty beads of despair. Her hair was in complete disarray, frizzy from having been compressed on her forehead. There were faint lines of black running down her face and circling her eyes. Two streaks of read lined her cheeks as evidence of the lengthy amount of time she had cried.

To anyone else, Natsumi would have appeared hideous. She herself knew that she must have been a sight.

But to Grimmjow, she had never looked more beautiful.

For that reason, Grimmjow huffed and turned around, abandoning Natsumi and slamming the door on his way out.


	4. I Love the Way you Lie

Natsumi could tell when Grimmjow was about to leave on another mission. He seemed to have developed a ritual prior to his departure. The first on this list of priorities was to screw Natsumi senseless the night before, as if he would never be able to again. Or maybe he just did it so she wouldn't wake up without him there. Natsumi wasn't stupid; she knew that Grimmjow cared about her in his own messed up way, and she liked the way that he would show it, or try not to.

The next thing that Grimmjow would do before he left consisted of a rigorous workout in his room. He made sure that although Natsumi would be asleep, she could smell his sweat.

After this, Grimmjow would usually go bitch out some of his subordinates, just to let off steam. This would usually spur a fight between him and one of his peons, obviously with him as the victor. A confidence boost was an excellent precursor to a mission; however, Grimmjow would then usually have to find a replacement for the fracción that he would have obliterated.

Grimmjow's routine consisted of several other tedious tasks, but it always ended the same way. He would return to his room, sit on the floor cross-legged with his palms pressing down on his knees, and watch Natsumi sleep. He had no idea why he would do this before every mission, but it just felt right to him. Something about the way her chest rose and retracted with her rhythmic breathing calmed Grimmjow, even though he knew his blood would start pumping as soon as he laid eyes on the enemy.

Usually, Grimmjow would sit and watch Natsumi for hours, then leave for the mission at the last possible minute. Usually, Natsumi wouldn't even notice that Grimmjow was watching her. Unfortunately, this night wasn't usual.

Natsumi's eyes popped open. She could feel an intense stare on her figure, causing her to sit up. Her eyes met Grimmjow's, and she knew what was happening without him having to waste breath in explanation.

"You're leaving?"

Grimmjow could feel the despondence in her tone and continued to stare. He knew that she was aware of the answer, so he didn't bother replying. He placed his palms on the ground instead, pushing himself off of the floor. Without sparing her a second glance, Grimmjow turned around and headed for the door. Before he could pull the knob, however, he heard Natsumi's gentle voice call out to him.

"Be careful."

Grimmjow paused. He never listened to what Natsumi advised, but for some strange reason, this recommendation stopped him. He thought about it for a moment, then chose to respond with what she most likely wanted to hear.

He turned his head over his shoulder and looked back at her, her eyes narrowed with concern. His own eyes widened at this. Then, with a libidinous smirk, he finally replied, "I will."

Grimmjow turned back around and waltzed out the door, leaving Natsumi alone with her worry.

She knew he had lied about being careful.

But she was glad he did.


	5. I Can't Tell you what it Really is

Grimmjow wasn't sure why he chose to keep Natsumi around, or why he even brought her to Las Noches to begin with. At first, she was just an intriguing little human; however, she had eventually developed into a rather annoying one. She would constantly pester him, asking where he was going, if he would be okay, and if she could go with him. He considered these inquiries particularly irksome since he was sure that Natsumi already knew the answers to these questions. If she didn't, he had no business bringing her here in the first place.

Natsumi had some of the same thoughts as Grimmjow. She knew he was intensely powerful. She knew that he could do whatever he wanted with her. Why, then, did he choose to keep her around? Was it because she cared for him so much? Or simply because she would willingly screw him whenever he was in the mood?

Grimmjow sincerely wasn't sure why he kept Natsumi. He couldn't even honestly define what their relationship meant to him, or her for that matter.

But he could honestly say that he never wanted it to end.


	6. I Can only Tell you what it Feels Like

It was ecstasy, in the purest sense of the word.

Grimmjow grinned, breathing down on her neck. She trembled, either from the sensation or the anticipation of what was to come. But he didn't care.

Her limbs were loose and hung around him like cobwebs in a dusty corner. Her eyes were shut in an attempt to magnify the experience. But Grimmjow didn't like that.

He roughly reached a scarred arm around her waist, effortlessly pulling her up and throwing her on his bed. Her eyes snapped open, a look of shock and mild anger evident in them. Grimmjow smirked, then pounced on top of her, straddling her waist. His lips crashed on hers, but she could only feel his teeth, sharp and pointy against her once flawless skin. They had marked her, and she was damn glad that the injuries would never be erased.

Before she could stretch her arms around his neck, Grimmjow pushed them back down, squeezing her wrists with the most power he could without completely rendering the bones into dust.

Natsumi moaned, perhaps in enjoyment or pain at the sensation. She moved her lips away from Grimmjow to look at her now injured wrists, exposing her sensitive neck for his pleasantly painful ministrations.

Grimmjow didn't nip her neck; he _bit _it. Grimmjow didn't hold her; he _crushed _her. Grimmjow didn't make love to her; he _fucked _her.

It was senseless, yet beautiful-a cacophony of eroticism and affection, in the loosest sense of the term.

It felt great.


	7. It's a Steel Knife in my Windpipe

"Guh-...Grimm..." she breathed, exhausting herself in the process. Grimmjow's knuckles were practically white from holding her throat so tightly, and he had no intention of releasing her.

Natsumi attempted to inhale, gasping like a fish out of water. It was useless, and she knew it. She attempted to look around the room for something that could prevent her impending doom, but found that the loss of oxygen was blurring her vision.

She could feel a hammer pounding her head, and a knife stuck in her throat. She felt her hands restrained against the wall, and her legs had seemed to be cut off. Her eyes were popping out of her skull, and her chest was being compressed by steam roller. The fingers around her neck twitched slightly, bringing her attention back to the fact that none of those images were actually a part of this reality.

What had she done to make Grimmjow so angry? She could list the details for days, but what Natsumi truly wondered was where he truly lost it. She knew she treated Grimmjow a lot worse than she probably should, especially considering that he constantly held her life in the palm of his hand (which was an especially ironic thought at this point).

Suddenly, Natsumi fell to the ground, her innate need to breathe kicking in and causing her to gasp. Her hands shakily touched her throat, feeling the imprints that his grip had left. She attempted to look up at Grimmjow, but was immediately met with the pounding of her head, and proceeded to look at the floor.

Her ears seemed to function just fine, however, as she heard Grimmjow declare, "Never say that to me again."

Grimmjow walked away before she got the chance to ask what she had said.


	8. I still Fight while I can Fight

Grimmjow didn't cry. He was a man, and men didn't cry. It was as simple as that.

Wasn't it?

He knew what he could feel, and he could clearly identify what he was feeling as an emotion unfamiliar to him. Women were expendable and useless; what was so different about her? Why did he constantly think about her outside of his bedroom? That's where his thoughts about her belonged, and that's where they should stay.

Shouldn't they?

Grimmjow couldn't help himself from feeling this way-it was a natural reaction. But he didn't know that, and he never would. So he would fight for himself, to keep his sentiments and his attention exclusively on himself. She didn't matter that much.

Did she?

Regardless of her effect on him, Grimmjow wouldn't accept it-he would fight it until the day he died.


	9. As Long as the Wrong Feels Right

It was wrong.

She knew exactly what she was doing, and she knew that she shouldn't be doing it, but that wouldn't stop her. After all, the most wrong things to do often are the most right.

Grimmjow leaned in to her neck, inhaling sharply then exhaling, causing her to shiver from his cool breath. Since her eyes were closed, she couldn't see the devious smile that bared his fangs. But she didn't care.

He leaned in, then bit her neck. She clenched his muscled shoulders in response, groaning as she attempted to squirm out of his grasp. Noticing this, Grimmjow roughly pushed her back down, pulling her hair to the side so he could suck her lips off. She could taste her blood on Grimmjow's fangs, until he bit her tongue.

Her eyes opened suddenly, and she pushed Grimmjow's shoulders again, releasing herself from his contact. This time, however, Grimmjow grabbed her hips and pushed her to the side, quickly pouncing back on top of her.

"The fuck's wrong with you?" Grimmjow demanded. He was furious.

Natsumi could tell he didn't want an answer, but she provided one anyway. "You keep biting me."

Her hand moved up to her neck, feeling the mark he left.

Grimmjow's eyebrows narrowed as he leaned one arm on the wall next to her head. He closed in on her, and temptingly replied, "So?"

She frowned. "It's not right." At this, Grimmjow could only raise an eyebrow and allow her to continue as she clarified. "This isn't the way it's supposed to be."

"The way _what's _supposed to be?"

Natsumi looked away, blushing. "You know..."

She knew she couldn't use a term normal for her. If she referred to sex as "making love," Grimmjow would be likely to throw her out of his life. Or at least out of the room.

Fortunately, Grimmjow seemed to understand what Natsumi was talking about. "How do you know what it's _supposed _to be like?" Grimmjow asked, placing his other arm on the other side of Natsumi's head. "The only way you know is the way that I do it."

"But it's not-"

"Not what?" Grimmjow interrupted. He smirked again as he continued. "Not the way you've heard about it? You should just get used to the way I do it." Grimmjow leaned his head towards Natsumi's, his lips ghosting against hers. "Because that's the only way you'll ever know."

Natsumi gasped at Grimmjow's finality, allowing him to once again surround her mouth with his.

So what if it was the wrong way? So what if it wasn't romantic?

For once, Grimmjow had a point; the way he did it felt perfect.


	10. It's Like I'm in Flight

She stood tall, feeling the gentle breeze against her skin. Her hands were sweating as she gripped the window pane, decreasing the effectiveness of her hold. Her bare feet ached against the edge, knowing they had the power to end everything.

Just a push, a nudge, could stop her pain. She wouldn't ache for him anymore when he left for weeks at a time. Maybe she could see him all the time if she did it and became a hollow. Maybe that would make him love her.

Her cheeks stung with the painful salty liquid that poured from her eyes. She released one hand from the window to wipe her tears away. She was so weak.

Her head spun as she looked at the ground. She could barely see it from her height, but she knew it was there. She wondered if falling from this height would hurt, or if she would die from a heart attack out of anticipation. Either result was desirable at this point.

She gasped as her left foot slipped, bringing her back inside. As she considered the prospect of jumping, she realized that a running start would be better, so as to direct her away from the building. After all, planes had to speed up before takeoff.

She walked backwards to the foot of the bed, her stare constantly directed at the window. She would jump. She would fly.

Just as she bent down to prepare for her launch out the window, a cool hand gripped her shoulder and spun her around.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Grimmjow's rough voice demanded. His signature scowl was present, his eyes twisted with the intention to startle her. He then followed her intended direction to the open window. It didn't take him very long to piece together her intentions.

"Jumping's stupid," he stated, pushing her aside to close the window. "There are better ways to die."

Natsumi was so surprised at his response, she couldn't reply. She wasn't even considering the fact that the sheer quantity of tears she had shed would have affected her ability to speak.

Grimmjow turned around to face her again, but the scowl was absent. He was serious when he stated, "I don't need to lose you yet."

Her eyes widened as Grimmjow closed his and walked past her to open the door. Before he left, Grimmjow turned to her and stated, "Think about that before you do something stupid again."

He walked outside and closed the door behind him.

Natsumi couldn't stand. She fell to her knees. She was stupid. She was selfish.

There was no point in trying to fly when Grimmjow made her feel like she was every time he was near her.


	11. High off of Love

There weren't many things Grimmjow noticed about her.

He had never noticed the color of her eyes. He didn't know what style she kept her hair in, or if she changed it often. He could hardly tell if she washed it. He didn't give her too many options as far as clothes and accessories went; just enough to sustain herself.

He didn't know what her favorite color was, or her favorite food. He didn't know if she had any siblings, or grandparents, or cousins. He didn't know what kind of music she liked, or what her hobbies were. He never asked what she aspired to do or become, or what she accomplished.

But what he did discover, he remembered. There was a certain spot on her neck where she loved to be kissed. She blushed when their hands would touch. She always slept on her left side on the right side of the bed. She had a tendency to play with her hair and bite her lips when she was nervous. And, for whatever reason, she really loved him.

He watched her sleep, her chest rising and falling with every breath. He tried to keep his breathing in time with hers, but it didn't work. Grimmjow quickly grew bored of doing this and stood up from the bed, walking over to the window. The vast expanse of emptiness in Hueco Mundo delighted him for some reason, and he recalled what Natsumi had said when he first brought her here.

"This is it?" she questioned, raising an eyebrow at the landscape. Although she tried to appear bored, Grimmjow could sense her fear of the nothingness.

Over time, he supposed she had forgotten about what was out there, or what wasn't. But she never did. She just cared about him enough to distract her from her fears, and ignore his lack of knowledge about her. He didn't have to know the petty details to make her heart soar.


	12. Drunk from my Hate

She grunted as she threw another rock out the window, not caring where it landed or if it hit anyone. She ran back into the room and grabbed another random object, harshly throwing it out the window with another grunt. She continued this process with another few objects until she picked up her shoe.

It wasn't a special shoe-just a sneaker, and a rather used one at that. The seams had begun to unravel, and there were numerous stains on the cloth. The once vibrant blue was now faded and dull, almost unrecognizable. She couldn't even remember where she put the other one.

But she knew how she got it. She had been brought to Hueco Mundo with only her pajamas and a pair of slippers, both of which were quickly ruined. After complaining about her lack of clothing for a while, Grimmjow had brought her a few articles of clothing and a pair of sneakers. Since they were her only pair, she wore the shoes every day, causing them to quickly become tattered and faded.

An explosion of emotions overwhelmed her as she strangled the sneaker, her grip causing her hand to shake. This was her only shoe, and Grimmjow vehemently refused to get her another pair. It had, apparently, been quite the task for him to get the sneakers

She swung her arm back around, attempting to hurl the shoe out the window. Instead, however, she released the sneaker within the room, knocking a lamp down with an incredible shatter. She was overcome with darkness instantly, and blinded by it. Although she hated the blackness, it calmed her instantly, quenching her intense sentiments.

So she sat, firmly clutching the other sneaker that seemed to materialize in her hands, smothered by the dimness of regret.


	13. It's Like I'm Huffing Paint

Natsumi wasn't quite sure how she found the cigarettes in Hueco Mundo, but she honestly didn't care. She had never smoked before, but now seemed as good a time as any. After discarding several of them due to failed attempts, she figured out which way to hold it and how to breathe it in without choking.

It wasn't a pleasant sensation. In fact, it made her feel downright despicable, and incurably dirty. Then again, it wasn't much different from how she felt in Grimmjow's absence.

She brought the cigarette back to her lips, took a deep breath in, then let her hand drop, exhaling with a release of repugnant pollution.

She was actually so fixated with smoking that she completely disregarded the new presence in the room, until he sat on the floor across from her. Grimmjow stared, his cerulean eyes skeptical of her actions. Surprisingly, the smell didn't bother him as much as he would have thought.

Natsumi blinked tiredly, turning her gaze from Grimmjow back to the cigarette in her hand. Usually, she would have been delighted from such an unusual amount of attention from him, but the high brought on by the nicotine weakened such sentiments.

As she raised her arm to breathe in the toxicity, Grimmjow grabbed her wrist, turning it around casually to inspect the white stick in it. He finally grabbed the cigarette from her hand, then released her wrist, letting it fall pathetically to the ground.

It didn't take long before Grimmjow grew tired of the cigarette, and extinguished it on the ground. Natsumi's brow furrowed, but she was far too nauseous to protest him.

He stared back up at her, flicking away what was left of the stick. Grimmjow couldn't deny that he didn't like the effect of cigarettes on Natsumi, considering the diluted hue of her eyes, the paler tone of her skin, and the inextinguishable stench of fatality.

Without a second thought, Grimmjow carefully lifted her off of the floor, one arm beneath her knees and the other supporting her back. By the time he reached the bed, she was already unconscious.

After laying her down, Grimmjow walked back to where she was sitting and located the remaining cigarettes in a colorful box. He scoffed at the irony, then walked over to window, chucking the box out and watching them fall to the ground below.


	14. I Love it the More I Suffer

It was disgusting.

She could feel the bile from her stomach working its way up her throat, and she couldn't push it down. But it didn't come out; it wouldn't. It just... vanished.

There was something appearing in its wake, though, and it was warm and wet and red. She wished she was colorblind.

She could feel Grimmjow's smirk as he pressed his cheek against hers, murmuring pointless insults that once could have hurt her. But she was too numb now.

What she did enjoy, however, was watching his long, slimy tongue lap at the fresh wound on her neck, his eyes set on her the entire time. As soon as he reached her face, he covered her mouth with his, letting her taste her own blood. She could feel the bile again, now.

It went away when the injury bled, causing Grimmjow to repeat the action. She couldn't breathe out the words to communicate these sensations; she couldn't breathe. She was certain that she didn't breathe, anymore.

But she didn't need to. Not when he forced that air into her every time his mouth covered hers.


	15. I Suffocate

It wasn't that Grimmjow loved Natsumi; he never would. What he felt was more likely due to some bizarre fascination with those too human emotions she expressed. Initially, they annoyed him. Now, they intrigued him.

He imagined the way she would squirm against him when he would tease her, so lightly brushing everywhere that she wanted him to, begging him to do things he himself desired. But he wouldn't, not for her.

He could remember the way she would smile when she pretended to have succeeded in something. She must have been stupider than he thought if she ever thought she could beat him. He was fascinated with the source of such an expression, since he knew when he caused it. Sometimes she would smile for no reason at all, which was when he least expected it.

And so, as he held her against the wall, his sharp nails digging into the delicate skin of her throat, he pondered the cause of her grin. He could kill her; she knew it. Maybe she also knew that he wouldn't, which would have given her reason to smirk.

But what he supposed to be the most likely reason of all was whenever he intended to suffocate her, he felt it himself.

And she knew it.


	16. She Resuscitates Me

Grimmjow didn't have many near death experiences. He was strong-it was a fact. But sometimes his strength failed him.

He knelt, panting, unintentionally bowing to the cocky man opposite him. He could feel the blood flowing from the wound on his chest. He didn't even know he had that much.

Grimmjow's hands fell to the ground in front of him, supporting the body that simply couldn't cooperate. He looked down at his wrists, taking notice of certain marks on them. Several crescent-shaped indents spanned the length of his arm beginning at his wrist.

Grimmjow smirked, standing up with renewed vigor. That must have been why he never lost his strength-because some part of her was always with him, and reminded him of what he had to come back for.


	17. She Fucking Hates Me, and I Love It

In a way, Natsumi was similar to Grimmjow. She wasn't very open with her emotions, yet she reacted strongly and openly. She also seemed to derive some pleasure from the misfortune of others; currently, Grimmjow was such a victim.

His fingers ripped at her head, violently threading through her hair. His teeth meshed together so hard, he was sure he could hear them breaking. The only solidity he currently felt was her, mouth and hands completely encircling him as she moved he head back and forth, back and forth, reveling in the small amount of control that he would let her have.

He pulled his hands away from her head, dropping a handful of dirty brown hair. He could feel the muffled sound she released after he pulled it out, and was dying to experience it again. But he knew she wouldn't let him.

Grimmjow bucked his knee forward, knocking Natsumi's shoulder back. She glared up at him, moving her hands to hold his legs against the wall. He didn't even know there was a wall.

His hands once again reached for her head, yanking her hair to pull her head up to his. Her pants were shallow compared with his, and he hated it. It was almost like she was winning.

Her displeasure at his attempt to regain control was evident on her face, from her furrowed brow to the frown sported on her pink lips. Grimmjow could only admire her appearance for a moment, however, as he felt a sharp connection from her hand to his cheek.

Had he been coherent, Natsumi never would have survived smacking him. If Grimmjow had the opportunity to regain any semblance of sanity, he wouldn't have dropped her, effectively causing her to smirk and resume her torture. But the part that sickened him was how much he admired her schadenfreude, and loved what it would make her to do him.


End file.
